


Rock Bottom

by Zagamalli



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Whump, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-24 11:46:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20907146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zagamalli/pseuds/Zagamalli
Summary: This man ain't happy about who Arthur killed





	1. Chapter 1

A sickening crack erupted throughout the cell, a scream escaping Arthur's lips before he could try to surpress it. "Leave him alone!" The younger man shouted, panic and anger coursing through his veins. A hand grabbed Arthur's chin, forcing him to look into the eyes of his torturer, his steely gray eyes displaying a cold desire. A desire to hurt. 

"Stop, please!" Lenny screamed to the sheriff, his pleading only making the man angrier. Dark spots danced in Arthur's eyes, but he thought he could see the sheriff pull something from his belt. "Now boy, if you don't shut up I'll slit this man's throat right here. Go ahead, tell him." He directed towards the blonde man, a sharp blade pressing tightly against Arthur's neck. 

"Go to hell." Arthur hissed, the fight not yet gone from his veins. "Well, if that's the case," the sheriff said behind a grimace, he pulled his knife down to Arthur's collarbone, pressing hard enough to draw blood, the blade moving down farther and farther down his chest. "Leave him alone! Please!" The youngest pleaded with the sheriff, the pleading only to fall on deaf ears. Blood was being drawn from different spots on Arthur now. Turning the knife around the sheriff plunged the handle into the bullet wound on Arthur's side, his arm instinctively moving out to protect himself, only for a hiss to escape when he tried to move it, half of it lagging behind the other, the knife handle hitting the still open wound.

Dark spots danced in his vision, Lenny's pleading and the man's sadistic chuckling soon sounding muffled, a coat of darkness slipping Arthur into a dreamless sleep. 

Arthur jolted awake, panick filling his mind as he searched the room for Lenny.  
"Arthur?" A voice piped up from the cell next to him, the kids voice ladened with panic in concern. Arthur had tried to say he was okay, the only thing to escape his dried throat a croak, even something as small as that agony against the bruises on his neck, his breathing more irratic and labored than before. 

"Arthur-" Footsteps appearing overhead, directly to where the old staircase sits. "Are you okay?" Arthur asked, his voice barely audible, everything on him hurting, covered in his own blood from the merciless beatings he'd endured earlier that day. "I-I thought you were-" "Well look who's awake" the sheriff cheered from the top of the stairs, eyeing both of the men. "Who's turn is it now?" He asked, marching down the steps. "Go to hell!" Lenny yelled, his voice stern and angry. "I guess it'll be you" the sheriff chuckled, fumbling with the cell keys, sticking it into the lock of Lenny's enclosurement. 

"W-wait," Arthur half cried and half pleaded. "Just-just leave him alone, I-I won't fight whatever you do to me, just leave him alone," the sheriff smirked as he went over to the door of Arthur's cell. The iron door creaked open, Arthur automatically tensing up as the sheriff strided over to the blonde man, pulling the silver and brown blade out of its sheath. Lenny was yelling in the background, the sheriff scowling at the noise. "The more you yell the more fun I'll have, boy." "Lenny, stop-" was all Arthur could say before a pointed boot was colliding with his broken foot, he yelled before he could even try to hold it in. 

"Does that hurt?" The sheriff asked patronizingly, like he was talking to a child. Fire burned in his veins, but he knew better than to respond to the sadistic man. Boots soon kept coming, bruising his skin even more, Arthur tried to surpress the whimpers in front of Lenny, shame only welling up even more when he couldn't. A sharp, burning pain exploded through Arthur's shattered arm, a scream escaped Arthur, the metal sliding down his arm, broken sobs the only thing coming out of his mouth. 

"You fucking cowards." The sheriff hissed at both Lenny and Arthur, Lenny still yelling at the sheriff. Before turning to leave, he delivered a kick to Arthur's chest one more time, Arthur curling in on himself on the concrete floor, trying to quieten his cries. The iron doors closed, the sheriff going back upstairs. Lenny's voice was there, but distant sounding to Arthur, his muffled sobs still filling the thick air of the cells. 

\------------

Something cold hit Arthur, jolting him awake with a shiver. The sheriff stood above him with a now empty bucket, a cold look in his eye, the same one Lyle had always given him before drunkenly beating him. The same look Dutch had given him whenever he fucked up. The same look that was given to him by all the passerbys on the street when he was a boy. The same look that made his hair stand on end.

"You back already?" Arthur smirked, a steely look in his blue eyes. A hand was soon in his hair and on his throat, lifting him into a sitting position against the wall, his arm and foot changing positions, hissing when they moved. Arthur made a quick grab for the sheriff's throat with his free arm, grabbing the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer. "You're not going to get away with this." Arthur threatened, no, that was a promise. 

"I only need one person on the gallows." The sheriff said, pressing his knife against Arthur's throat, slowly adding pressure. Arthur could hear Lenny panicking in the other cell, Arthur went to grab for the knife, grabbing onto the blade, crimson drained from his hand. There's no way he'd win, but god be damned if he wouldn't put up a fight. 

A gun cocked from behind the sheriff. "Let him go you so of a bitch." The man said, his black hair falling to his shoulders, the scars prominent above his bandanna. "Now." "Hey, there's no need for that," the sheriff said, his voice cracking with fear, stepping off of Arthur. John's eyes scanning Arthur, eyes flickering with fear when he saw his condition. He stepped into the cell, backing the sheriff into the corner, John pulled the black knife out of his own belt, stabbing into the sheriff's throat, his body falling to the floor of bloodstained cell, movements slowing as crimson flowed around him. 

John skidded to a halt beside Arthur, fideting with the chains keeping him in place "Arthur? Arthur, keep your eyes open for me buddy, I'm going to get you out of here. Dutch and Hosea are on their way." John stated, getting the keys off of the sheriff's corpse and sticking every key in the shackles until one finally clicked, every movement making Arthur hurt even more, doing his best to surpress a yelp when John had moved his arm. 

"Shit, shit, I'm sorry." "Oh shut up," Arthur croaked, his barely audible voice doing nothing more but worry Arthur's younger brother even more. Finally freeing Arthur, John moved onto Lenny's cell, at least he wasn't chained to the wall like a dog, only his hands cuffed behind his back. "Is he okay?" Lenny asked John as soon as the gag was off, Arthur was far from okay and John wasn't about to give Lenny false hope. "He's alive." 

Something flickered in Lenny's eyes, a mix of sadness and hope. A loud thud sounded upstairs, footsteps running to the staircase. John readied his silver revolver, and gave a spare one to Lenny, both aiming at the staircase. Two well dressed men came rushing down the stairs, one with dark hair and the others white. "John, we told you to-" was as far as Dutch got before spotting Arthur, slumped up against the wall with a corpse beside him. His blonde hair stained brown with blood, his foot and arm at a twisted angle, twitching every once in a while.

"Oh my god.." Hosea said, anger and panic welling in his eyes, fire coursing through his veins. Both rushed past John and Lenny into Arthur's cell, skidding to a halt on either side of him. "We gotta get him back to camp. Now." Hosea ordered, John and Lenny rushing over to help in any way they could. "John, grab his knee, Dutch, get his shoulders." Grabbing onto Arthur posed as a challenge, almost every part of his body bloodied and bruised. "Lenny get to camp, tell them we're coming." Lenny scurried out and onto his horse, running out of Strawberry as fast as he could manage. 

Arthur hissed as they went to pick him up, "Goddamnit, give me some warning next time." He said, slurring his words a bit. The others surprised he's conscious in this state. "Sorry Arthur." John had said as they moved to the stairs. Slowly making their way up the stairs was a painful endeavor for Arthur, every step jostling every bone in his body, the pain soon dunking him into sleep once again.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur awoke with a jolt, the ground rushing up to meet him, horses screaming in the background. Voices swarmed, gunshots flying from beside him. Arthur tried to move, only his fingers twitching. Hands grabbed onto his arms and legs, a yelp escaping his lips as someone grabbed onto the broken bones. Laughing coming from the men as they moved dragged him away from the gunfire, being as rough as possible to cause pain to Arthur. Who were these men? Where'd his family go? 

Arthur's mind was flown into a panic as he tried to fight the hands on him, every attempt to twist away landed him a punch in the gut or a twist of his shattered arm. Falling still after a few tries. The only thing escaping when he tried to speak were croaks, the bruises on his throat far from gone, courtesy of the men that had hit him in the throat on his first attempt at wriggling away. 

"Drop him here." Someone instructed, the voice harsh, with an accent Arthur couldn't quite place. Anything to keep his mind off of what might happen next. Next thing he knew, he was falling. He hit the ground with a thud, landing on his broken arm, he screamed as soon as the pain registered. Laughing came from all around him, sick, twisted grins plastered onto the faces of the men around him. 

"Colm's gonna be happy to see ya, Morgan." Odriscolls, of course. Something crashed against Arthur's chest, then another, and another. Arthur was curled into a ball before he knew it, snickering loud above him. Hands grabbed at his shirt, pulling him off the ground, the odriscoll put his hand on Arthur's bloody and bruised throat. "You're going to make a Colm a pretty penny, you know that?" "Go to hell." Arthur growled, bloody spit landing in the eye of the odriscoll. Arthur was soon being thrown the ground, a boot on his throat, pressure gradually being put on to the point where breathing was difficult, clawing at the boot with his hand only earned him a series of kicks. Something landed in the bullet wound on Arthur's side, and a twist to his snapped arm. He couldn't hold back the scream, as shameful as it felt. 

"Ya know, we should really clean off all that mud and blood if we're delivering you to Colm!" The lead odriscoll said, grabbing Arthur's shirt collar, dragging him across the rocks. Panic ran through him, where the hell was his family? Arthur's train of thought was cut off, being enveloped in ice cold water, the vision of the men above him soon clouded crimson with blood. Completely helpless, held to the Odriscolls mercy, he was reminded of what happened earlier. He had to get back to the others. Adrenaline kicked in, Arthur grabbing at the man above him, a scream erupted, but it wasn't from Arthur. Something had plopped into the water, blood flowing from the man's face onto Arthur's hand. Four more hands held him down, kicking out he couldn't connect with anything, his movements becoming sluggish. 

Water splashed around him, the weight gone. Something fell beside him, Arthur too weak to even move his head. Someone yanked him out of the water, dragging him onto the muddy land. "Arthur? Arthur, please," someone pleaded, pulling him into a sitting position. Immediately hacking, something brown sputtered out of his mouth, his throat in more agony than it has been in a few days. Each cough had agrivated his arm and leg, each slight movement causing pain to course through his battered body.

"It's okay, we have you." The other man said, patting Arthur's back and embracing him in a hug. "I'm sorry," "Arthur-" "I'm sorry, Hosea," "Arthur it isn't your fault." "Yes it is-" "Come on, let's get you home," Hosea chided, doing his best to calm Arthur, Hosea doing his best to hold back his own tears, aware Arthur probably didn't even realize he was crying himself. "John, get the horses, Dutch, go get sticks and some bandages." Hosea ordered, still hugging his son, his other one approaching with all four horses. "How is he?" John asked, already knowing the answer. "He'll be better with bed rest." Hosea answered, but John could detect the fear in his voice. 

"Here," Dutch said, setting the bundle of stick on the ground with some bandages. "Arthur? Are you awake?" Hosea questioned "Y-yeah," Arthur responded after a few seconds, putting some of Hosea's fear to rest. "Arthur, we need to splint your foot and arm. This is going to hurt, okay?" "Okay." He huffed, his breath still shaking from earlier. 

Hosea straightened Arthur's foot, trying to block out the whimpers, each one breaking the heart of Dutch, John and Hosea even more. With the makeshift splint done, Hosea moved on to the arm, twisted unnaturally. "Okay Arthur, I need to move your arm." "Mkay," he responded, words slurring together, Hosea praying Arthur wouldn't remember everything that happened. Splint completed, they needed a way to get Arthur onto one of their horses, John offered since his horse is the biggest one besides Arthur's, and god forbid anyone try to get on that norse bastard who wasn't Arthur.

Arthur had tried to stand himself, that idea ending in pain, and him hopping along on one leg, Hosea and Dutch on either side doing their best to keep him upright. Fenrir trotted over, sniffing at the man who helped him, starting to chew on his hair as Hosea pushed the stallions head away, only earning a huff from the black horse. Pushing away from his dads, the blonde attempted to walk of to his horse, only to lose balance and land on the side of Fen. "Arthur, what do you think you're doing?" Dutch asked, clearly annoyed with Arthur's feeble attempt at convincing him to let him ride his own horse. "I can ride myself, Dutch." "No. You can't." Dutch said sternly, earning a glare from the other three. Hosea soon piped in, keeping Dutch from talking more. "Arthur, please get on John's horse, just for now." "Hosea-" "Please?" "Fine-" was all Arthur had gotten out before collapsing to the cold ground below.


	3. Chapter 3

John jumped down off of old boy as Dutch and Hosea raced to Arthur's side, his breathing shallow. Arthur's vision blurred, the panicked voices surrounding him distant and muffled. Arthur pushed his hand against the ground, the attempt to stand only proving useless once he felt hands guiding him back to the damp ground. 

"Mfine-" he mumbled, still trying to pull away from Hosea, hands wavering and strength gradually diminishing, shamed and embarrassed that he couldn't even pull away from Hosea of all people. Absence of strength concerning everyone. A hand rested on Arthur's forehead, sweat bearing on his forehead. "He's burning up," Hosea declared, trying his best to keep calm. "John, get back up there." Dutch ordered, he and Hosea doing their best to get Arthur standing, limping over to Old Boy.

"Come on son, let's get you up there." Instructed Arthur. Getting him onto the Hungarian halfbred was a struggle, any and every tug provoking a whimper from Arthur, too exhausted by the endeavor to hold back, every one making his face flush red, ashamed of how weak he's feeling, especially in front of his brother. 

'Goddamnit Arthur, you useless son of a bitch' he thought, bitter with himself, his knuckles going white around the saddle horn. "Hey, you alright?" John questioned, noticing how his hand encompassed the horn, accompanied by the red tint on his face. "I'm fine." Arthur growled, sounding harsher than he'd initially intended, but John didn't seem to mind all that much. 

"Keep your eyes open for us, alright, son?" Dutch ordered, voice unwavering. Energy depleted, all he could manage was a meager nod. Wrapping his arm around Arthur's chest, to keep the older one from falling out of the saddle. It wasn't necessarily meant to be a comforting gesture, but it was to Arthur. He tried to keep his eyes open, he really did, but exhaustion won in the end, as soon as the horse started into a canter towards Horseshoe Overlook.

The ride was a blur to Arthur, phasing in and out of consciousness yet again. Whenever he was mildly cognizant he'd look at the azure sky, birds passing overhead. In due time after regaining consciousness for a few minutes, the sky overhead had turned pink, gray streaks phasing throughout. 

Next thing he knew, he was being lowered off of the horse, voices around him foggy and distant, groggily opening his eyes, a black sky loomed above, a brilliant Galaxy visable, hundred of stars decorating the sky. Voices dragged him out of his thoughts, "thur- Arthur, are you with me?" Someone asked, voice calm and gruff. "Hey, Charlie." Arthur chuckled, a coughing fit erupting, blood splattering on Arthur's hand and shirt, but nothing compared to the amount of blood already on his tattered shirt, the blue now a mix of maroon and ebony.

'Did I really just call him Charlie?' 

"Let's get you to your tent," Charles started, Arthur already trying to stand up himself, a set of hands on his arm, Arthur trying to shake them off to no avail. "Et offa me-" Arthur growled, only for another coughing fit to attack his throat, the attack hurting more than the others, blood splattering onto the already red grass. "Arthur let me help you-" Charles said, no room for argument in his tone. "Charles, you ain't gotta-" Arthur's breath hitched, his broken foot moving into an awkward position. "C'mon." Charles ordered, another set of hands grabbing onto him, helping him onto his feet, er, foot.

Limping over to his cot was a blur, each step sending pain jolting through him, tugging on the ribs he was sure are broken. The other two sat him on the cot, Bill going back to give Arthur space while Hosea is was barking orders. The other man turned to leave as well, Arthur tried to say something, vaguely resembling Charles's name. Turning around he looked at Arthur. "L-Lenny-" "He's fine Arthur." The blonde man breathed a sigh of relief.

'Thank god' Arthur wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something happened to Lenny, what if his idea didn't work? Would Lenny be in the same condition as Arthur? Would he- 

"Arthur, you alright?" Hosea was there now, when did he get there? Oh well, that's not important right now. "Y-yeah," he barely managed to get out, blood dripping from his lip. "We need to stitch you up, okay? This is going to hurt." He said, a hint of remorse audible in his voice, and sadness visable in his eyes. A nod was the only response Arthur could muster, even that causing him to wince. 

Arthur never liked the feeling of a needle tugging against his skin, but he was used to it. It wasn't his first time being stitched up and certainly wouldn't be his last. Hosea peeled the remains of Arthur's favorite shirt off, heart sinking with every new wound revealed. Skin black, blue and purple in multiple spots, the only normal looking spots covered in blood, both dried and some still oozing down his side. Darkness was starting to encompass Arthur's vision, stars dancing in the corner. "Arthur?" Hosea asked, Arthur starting to slump back towards Hosea. "John!" Hosea yelled, the younger man coming over as quickly as he could manage. "What's wrong?" Urgency in his voice, "Nothing, I just need you to hold him up for me." "Okay," John agreed, putting his hands on Arthur's shoulders. "Im-Im fine-" Arthur slurred, almost immediately darkness washed over him. 

A sound came from in front of Arthur, his eyes groggily opened. "Where-" "Morning sunshine!" Someone cheered. That voice, he knew that voice. Who- "Seems like you were having a dream of sorts!" The man chuckled, a tin badge on his coat. A blade shone in the sheriff's hand, Arthur's eyes widening, attempting to move against the pain. Why can't he move? A silver blade was up to his throat now, Lenny nowhere in the room. "Where's-" "Your friend? Didn't you hear the cheering already?" Panic raced throughout Arthur, still trying to move, but there he sat. Paralyzed. At the mercy of the sadistic bastard in front of him. 

"thur- Arthur wake up, Arthur-" he woke with a jolt, panic coursing through his veins. "Where's Lenny-" "Arthur," "Goddamnit where is he?" Arthur snapped at John, startling the younger man. "He's asleep, Arthur." Arthur's irratic breathing had started to slow, tears starting to slide down his bruised and bloodied cheek. Before he knew it, there was an arm wrapped around him, John embracing his brother in a hug. "I'm glad you're okay." John stated, Arthur still holding onto him like he was his lifeline. "John, I'm sorry-" "It's okay, you're home." The blonde man drifted back into a dreamless slumber.

He woke to birda chirping outside of his cot, and could see someone walking towards it through the sheet that had been hastily put up to give Arthur privacy. A part of the sheet had been pulled away, Hosea entering with Dutch. "How are you feeling?" Dutch asked, brows furrowed and face in an unreadable expression. "Okay, considering." Arthur said, a dark chuckle came from both him and Hosea. "Stay strong son, we need you." "I know." And that was all Dutch said before walking out, shouting orders at random gang members.

"I'm- I'm sorry, Hosea. "Arthur-" "None of this wouldve happened if it weren't for me," "Arthur." "Lenny wouldn't have gotten hurt, you wouldn't have-" His ramblings were cut off when he was enwrapped in a hug, Hosea soothing Arthur the best he could. The older man wiped a tear off or his son, who wasn't even aware he'd been crying. "It isn't your fault, Arthur. I'm going to be here if you need me." He said, Arthur lowering back onto the cot, the birds cooing lulling him to sleep. 

Hosea stood after a few minutes, making sure Arthur was asleep. Spotting Lenny by the campfire he approached, pulling him aside. "Lenny, what happened while you two were gone?" Hosea asked, noticing Lenny's expression turn sullen, Lenny started to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can y'all tell that I'm posting these the day I write them? And there's yet to be another chapter or two!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol guess who decided to start writing at 3 am. Anyways, super sorry for the delay y'all! One more chapter after this, I really appreciate the support I've been getting!! 💙

'Well, Ms. Grimshaw sent me and Arthur out scouting.'

"Mr. Morgan! Can you go scouting ahead for us? Check up on this new town and maybe get a lead or two? We're awful low on money, you know." "Of course, Ms. Grimshaw." Arthur responded, walking over to the ebony fresian he'd stollen from an odriscoll while he was out riding a few months back before all of that blackwater business. He liked Fenrir, and Fen liked him back, but he was still no Boadicea. 

"Hey Lenny, wanna go scouting with me?" Arthur asked the kid, Lenny perking up when he heard the question. "Sure! Where we goin?" Lenny asked, expression cheerful. Lenny always reminded him of Isaac, maybe that's why he liked him so much. "Well, let's go then." Arthur expressed, motioning towards the small palmino that sat beside Arthur's fresian. 

"Where are we going?" Lenny asked again, realizing Arthur didn't hear him the first time. "Valentine." 

'And he'd said we were going to Valentine, and that's where we ended up for a while.'

"Cheers," the blonde man said, drinking down his beer in a few gulps. "Cheers" the younger one retorted, draining the golden liquid from the shot glass. Arthur heard people conversing in throughout the bar, listening in on each one until something caught his attention. Elbowing Lenny, Lenny looked at Arthur and then to where he was looking at. 

"So there's this old coot who lives up north of Strawberry. And I reckon she has a lot of money sitting up there." Looking at Lenny, Arthur noticed a small grin on his face, "Let's go then." The blonde chuckled, promenading out of the bar, and through the batwing doors, onto the porch, serveying what he could see of main Street. "Ya know, I think this is a good town to run with for now." Arthur claimed, climbing atop of his horse, Lenny doing the same.

'then we got a lead, so we were off to Strawberry.' 

The two had been trotting along for a few hours now, the sun directly overhead, the blistering heat beating on them and their geldings. A small, quaint town appeared in their vision, hidden between the pine trees that towered over them. There was a general store, a sheriff's office and a hotel, but that was about it. 

"Hey, I gotta go get something in the store. I'll be out in a minute." Arthur stated, sauntering in to the wooden store. 

Not even five minutes had passed when a clicking had come from behind Lenny. Slowly raising his hands a voice came from behind, laced with venom. "Empty your pockets, boy." "You don't have to do this," Lenny stated, some shakiness within his voice. God damnit, where was Arthur? "Now." "Okay, okay." Lenny obliged, the dark haired man stepping closer to reach in to Lenny's pockets before another click sounded. 

"Get the hell away from him." Arthur growled, the black and yellow steel of his pistol glistening in the sunlight. Turning around, the thief attempted to draw his revolver towards Arthur, the ground being painted a brilliant red before he could.

'And someone tried to rob me, so Arthur shot him.'

Screams and yelling filled the air of the surrounding area. "We gotta go," Arthur urged, moving towards their horses that stood hitched by the hotel across the street. A gunshot rang out, Arthur could feel the bullet tearing into his skin, ripping through muscle and cartilage on his lower leg above his ankle. He yelped, the ground soon rushing up to meet him. Clenching his fists, the blonde tried to get up, Lenny trying to hoist him to his feet. Another shot rang out, Arthur yelled as it entered his side. Disoriented, he tried to get up against the pain.

A kick was delivered against his throat, sending him back down once again, coughing against the sudden pain blossoming in his throat. Glaring up towards his assailant, he noticed tears in their eyes. "You son of a bitch," he growled, Arthur not missing the tin star on his chest. A blow had been delivered against his chest. Arthur kicked the sheriff in the knee, going to reach for the knife he kept in his boot. Feeling for the handle he pulled it out of the sheath, boosting himself to his feet.

Hands pulled at Arthur's hands behind his back, instantly turning around and sinking the knife into the throat of the other officer trying to subdue him, red oozed down his throat, the corpse dropping to the ground, the ground wet with blood. Something blunt hit Arthur's back, pushing the air out of his lungs, letting out a wheeze as he hit the ground. 

A foot held Arthur against the ground, and another pushing on his foot. Bone crunched in Arthur's foot and ankle, jostling the bullet above it as well. He couldn't help from crying out, as much as he tried. The beating continued, soon Arthur's movement sluggish from the bloodloss, darkness encompassing his vision. 

'they beat him, shot him, Arthur killed someone else, so they beat him some more.' 'who did?' 'the sheriff and some other law.'

He slowly came to, laying on the wooden floor in front of a desk, footsteps surrounding him, hands yanking him off of the floor. Hands pulled at his hair, forcing him to look at the sheriff, a cold glint in his eye. "Take him down to a cell. Not the same one his friend is in either." "Yes sir-" was all they got out before the blonde was fighting against his restraints again, elbowing one officer in the throat, and headbutting another. He knew he wouldn't be able to get away, but god damn it if he wasn't going down without a fight. 

Both of the men stumbled back, letting their grip of Arthur go, Arthur falling to the wooden floor. The floor was rather wet, someone must have dropped something recently. The sheriff hoisted Arthur up, dragging him to the stairs that descend to the basement, the tin star pushing Arthur down unto the concrete floor. Agony plagued Arthur's body, almost every inch of him hurting. Wheezing was all he could muster while the sheriff stormed down the stairs, Arthur trying to stand but to no avail. 

Gripping the collar of Arthur's shirt, the sheriff dragged him into a cell, chains rattling as he closed the shackles around Arthur's hands and ankles, uselessly fighting against the restraints. "Don't worry, I'll be back down." He taunted, venom dripping from his patronizing tone. 

Arthur lay there, unable to fall asleep due to the misery the sheriff had bestowed upon him. "Lenny?" He questioned, waiting for the one he saw as a son, to wake up. Lenny awoke to the sound of stiffled whimpers and labored breathing, grazing over the room he spotted Arthur, the amount of blood on his clothing and skin had increased tenfold from the last time he saw him, blood ran down his forehead and nose, too many cuts on his face, along with a black eye and bruises decorating his jawline.

'They knocked me out and put me in a cell, when I woke up I saw Arthur in the next one, covered in blood.'

"Arthur!" Lenny panicked, running up to the cell door, attempting to open it, only the squeking of hinges and rattling of bars sounded until footsteps started down the stairs. "I'm- I'm okay Lenny." Arthur wheezed, the gasping making Lenny panick more. Footsteps still sounded, only down the stairs this time, a cheerful voice erupting throughout the cells. "Mornin boys!" The tin star boomed, the noise making Arthur's migraine worsen, pain pulsing throughout his bloodied body. 

Strolling over to Arthur's cell, the sheriff cracked it open, the door screaming on its hinges. "Hello, boy." He chuckled, god how Arthur hated that tone. It's the same one Lyle would always use before beating him, and well, that's what was about to happen anyways. "You killed my brother, you know." "And I'd do it again if I had the chance." Arthur spat back, just as much poison in his voice, the sheriff's face turning red, he hooked onto Arthur arm. 

"then he broke Arthur's arm. He- Arthur let that happen to him so he'd leave me alone, and- and I couldn't do anything to help him- and-" 

"Lenny, it's not your fault, and you did good getting back here in time." Hosea chided, sadness starting to crack through his carefully crafted facadé. "You did good. Go get some rest, Lenny." He told Lenny, only getting a nod in return. Pushing up from his seat, he wandered over to Arthur's cot.


End file.
